


Life of an American

by TheWhiteSwordsman



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Awkward, Bullies, First Day of School, Hurt, Maybe comfort, Struggling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-04 19:30:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5345954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWhiteSwordsman/pseuds/TheWhiteSwordsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being a child soldier, 13 year old Jack had been moved to a school and start a new life. But many struggles and problems appear for a kid who has just been memory-wiped from the Patriots and thrown into a world unknown to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life of an American

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HyperKey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperKey/gifts), [KirushiSempai](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=KirushiSempai).



> A thought occurred to me lately: What was life like for little Raiden in the States? I have read many AUs where he was a teenager living a normal life, but I want to know what it was like for him right after killing hundreds then being being memory wiped and then having to cooperate with hundreds. Also, since he's like 13 when he comes to America. (or 16, depending on his age, which I could have a whole debate on)  
> And being 13 means he's in 8th grade, which isn't easy. So I'm going to try my best and writing what would happen to this guy. And if this is well liked, then I might make more than one chapter.
> 
> (This story is dedicated to Boxed Devil due to a Tumblr conversation about this topic that has inspired me to write this. At least, I think that she participated in it.)

"Class, I'd like you to meet our new student: Jack Sears. Kind of like our president,  _George Sears. And speaking of the president_...."

All of the students in the classroom sighed to themselves as soon as they realized that their teacher, Ms. Bradley, had begun to trail off  _again._ All eyes were laid upon the new kid, and he looked odd. His hair was the color of the chalk on the chalkboard and his eyes matched the afternoon sky: a beautiful blue that clouded with emptiness. The boy was standing still, tilting his head down and staring at his new tennis shoes. His hair had slight curls at the ends, giving him an innocent appearance. _  
_

"Would you like to  say where you're from, Jack?" Ms. Bradley  asked politely, who was leaning foward on her desk with her head turned to the boy with full interest.

Jack stayed silent for a bit, which stirred small whispers coming from his fellow peers. He then cleared his throat and spoke surprisingly louder than expected for a shy looking person. 

"Liberia, I am from Liberia."

"Liberia? Oh my, was it hard for you to live there with the civil war?" The teacher asked, catching some of the students' attention.

The boy responded   casually. "No. In fact, we saw nothing bad there. I guess the war moved somewhere else. "

"What about your parents? What do they do?"

Jack's expression faded. He then looked off to the side and frowned.

"They're dead. They were killed by terrorists when I was young on my way to Liberia. I now live with a group."

The teacher's smile disappeared quickly. "Oh... I'm sorry to hear that." She said sympathetically, then caught what he had mention about living with a "group".

"Uh...  _group?_ What group is watching over you?"

"Oh. I didn't mean group as in organization. I meant a foster family."

"Ah, I see," the teacher sighed with relief, worried that something was wrong with the student. "Well, Jack, we are all very glad you could come here. Now if you could sit at the desk next to Susie there, then that would be great."

Like an obedient soldier, Jack did what he was told and placed his backpack at his desk and sat in the wooden seat. He noticed small glances from the other kids, not sure if they were looks of agression or confusion. He felt a pressuring fog surround him, but it didn't bother him much.

Most thought that he was the shy type. Some thought he was homosexual due to his feminine  appearance and gentle eyes. He didn't look physical or mentally strong, which made  everyone avoid him for the first period. Surprisingly, he was way different than what people had expected.

During the physical exam in gym class, no one expected to see a bulging six pack and strong, well built muscles underneath his baggy clothes. It was even  _more_ unexpected to see him do running, stretches, and cardiovascular  training with such ease. He was even the fastest boy in the class!

"Did you grow up in the battelfield, kiddo?" The gym teacher joked. "Your scores are incredible!"

If only he knew...

During math, he was able to calculate  algebraic  equations and find variables to certain problems.

"Did you get injected  with some sort of "smart drug"? The math teacher joked also.

If only she knew...

During art, he was an expert  at using charcoal to shade drawings. However, he only drew violent or pictures that had action in it which threw off his "peaceful" characteristic. But he had just as much problems with other classes.

In history, he knew  _nothing_  of US history. Everytime he tried to recall it, a sudden ring would fill his head, telling him to forget about it. He was only to be able to learn about the president's and how America was founded, nothing else. No government nor how it works, or else he would recieve a huge headache.

Music was also hard. Because of his "graceful" image, the music teacher didn't want his charming appearance to be ruined by a rusty band intrument, so he was put with a violin. He never knew how or what key to use when playing the untrument, nor how to move the bow correctly. But it was fun. He managed to get the hang of playing "Mozart's Melody" and learn the scales.

Lunch was so far his favorite period, despite receiving many comments on how bad the food is. At first, he winced as the lunch lady placed something mushy and unapealing on his lunch  tray. The way it jiggled if anything was moved and had that yellowish brownish color. He couldnt tell if it was mashed potatoes or a human are chewed up. Having hunger control him, he decided to try a small spoonful of the mysterious meal.Then to his surprise, it tasted good. He didn't know why, but it felt like he had grown up on horrible meals.

Because on how talented and super good looking he was, a lot of the girls admired him. Groups of giggling girls ask Jack more about his life, mostly about Liberia. He replied with normal things, like he weather and area there, but it was strange how he never mentioned when his family was there. Figuring that it would be rude to pry into matters about his parents who died, they manage to avoid asking the topic.

Even the guys liked him. Some kept on asking if he would like to join their football team, but he refused, saying that he wasn't a fan of sports. Basketball was the closest he liked.

After a few weeks of increasing popularity, he walked towards his home like usual. He passed the kids outside who were waving him goodbye for the day. During his walk, he passed other neighborhoods and trees and children playing. It was something about the area that just felt...  _unnatural._ It felt as if he didn't belong here, out of place. But he can't put his finger on it. Why can't he remember anything about his past? The only memories he had were very vague and filled with boring events. He wasn't even sure if he even been through those times. He didn't remember driving down towards a Liberian town with his parents...

But he has some odd feeling of driving towards a Liberian town with a group of  _children._

When silence would fill the air, Jack could sometimes hear faint gunshots and screaming echo in his ears. Sometimes, he thought he recalled some smoke or fires appear in random areas, only to fade when he blinked after staring at it in disbelief. He had an odd feeling when he had a knife in cooking class or a water gun during a science experiment in his hands. It felt  _natural._ it was as if he knew how to use it his whole life.

  


If only he knew...

At last, he arrived. His house was pretty big for an average kid. No, that was wrong-- Jack wasn't average. Some things is wrong with him. His house had red bricks and a fertile lawn with columns  on the porch and a large door.

As he reached for the door to his house, it swung open, revealing a tall man with slender features and a face so disturbong and grimm that looking at a wall would be more calming. His raven hair parTed how towards his shoulders and strands barely covered the glint from the glasses, the item that did a poor job shielding life from those menacing green eyes.

"Ah, Jack, welcome back." The man greeted , keeping the same gloomy tone. Jack stepped in the house and into the living room, waking towards a chair and sitting down.

The procedure  was begining again.

The man walked towards the boy patiently, leaving enough time for a group of doctors to prepare the drug and put it in the syringe. Jack heard the men whisper frantically, discussing of something. But it didn't matter to him, they did this all the time.

By the time the tall man reached the boy, on of the doctors arrived with the needle ready. He held the syringe and put a little alcohol  on the boy's arm.

"Will this get rid of the visions?" Jack asked, just like every time when he had to do this.

The man shrugged, "this all depends on you. If you try to forget about it, then everything will go away."

Having hope washed away by the sudden sharp pain pierce his arm, he grimaced and grunted a bit, enduring the medicine as it traveled throughout his body and pressured his brain. After a minute, he was released from the chair and stood up, wondering what was happening.

"Tell me Jack" the tall man asked, grabbing a clipboard and scanning the checklist. "Do you feel nervous?"

"No." He replied nonchalantly. 

The man scribbled something down and continued.

"How do you feel about killing?"

"It is wrong."

"How about knifes?"

"They are dangerous."

"What about guns?"

"I must be older in order to use one."

And... what do you remeber?"

If he knew, he could have said anything. Who these people really were. That he had no foster parents and was actually with some agents of the Patriots. But he doesn't know that. They got control of him, he has been tamed. He could have talked about his true past, how he was forced to kill. But the drug cause all of that to fade away, placing new, artificial memories inside instead. He talks about the usual, what every kid wold do....

  


If only he knew.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you like it^^ If you like it, then I can make more chapters until he's in his teens. If not, then oh well. 
> 
> Childrendieeverydaysowhyshouldyoucareaboutmywork (please ignore that)


End file.
